


Observant and Blind

by ChestnutPatronus14



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Evil!John Blake, M/M, Manipulations, Medical Trauma, Trauma, league of shadows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChestnutPatronus14/pseuds/ChestnutPatronus14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young orphan is taken to the League of Shadows where he meets the masked man, the one called Bane.  The man who would become his teacher, his mentor, and so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Observant and Blind

**Author's Note:**

> Here goes nothing. An attempt at a fic for a pairing I love. Wasn't planning on posting this but well had several people tell me to so this is me posting it.

_"Every person is observant to the flaws of others and blind to his own flaws." -Arab Proverb_

It was cold and dark and it was raining. The young boy was huddled up by a dumpster, only protection from the rain was in the form of a soggy cardboard box. Not that he minded the cold as much as he used to. It was the dampness, the chill that would stick to his bones for the next few days that would prove to be a problem for him. It was dangerous to be sick and be on the streets, almost a death sentence. Most of the other street dwellers went down into the sewers, but not him. He knew better. Those who went into the sewers never seemed to come back. He was content to hide under the soggy box. Or maybe shimmy under the dumpster, cause while it might smell something awful at least he would not get any wetter than he already was.

Occasionally he would peer out from under his shelter and glance towards the streets. He could see impeccably dressed people rushing by on the sidewalks, running as if they were always late. No time for a street rat. Cars rushed by, horns blaring from time to time. No one stopped; no one cared.

The boy coughed, tugging an oversized coat around his small frame a bit more. Unconsciously he calculated how much money he had left. A few bucks from watching some lady's dog the other day, but probably only enough for a small cup of something warm. Hot chocolate. God what he wouldn't give for just a sip of the rich (and hot) goodness that was his favorite drink. His mother would make it for him when he was small and cold, when he was upset. Then she was taken from him and that stopped. His father tried, but it wasn't the same. Then his father left him too.

He learned through his parents, through the various foster homes that tried to 'fix' him even though there was nothing wrong with him. Everybody leaves. No one stays. Nobody cares.

He was twelve, been on the streets for two years, and not a single person seemed to notice when he had slipped away into the dark. He trusted no one, talked to no one if he could avoid it. It seemed to be safer that way.

The sound of a car door being slammed shut, or not one, two doors, had the boy wishing he had gotten himself under the dumpster. He could hear voices getting closer, speaking in some strange language. In the back of his mind he prayed that if he stayed quiet, stayed still long enough, that he'd be able to just go unnoticed as he normally was.

He could see them now, their shoes splashing in the puddles, and then they stopped. He shut his eyes tight, back pressed against the building as he tried his best to will them away, drive them away so that he could just go and freeze in the rain.

"Papa, this one is alive." A voice. A girl's voice. There was something else though, a smell and it smelled very much like - "Here, this should warm you up." She had some sort of accent, one that he couldn't place, though he finally opened his eyes. She had dark hair and dark eyes, but there was what appeared to be an attempt at a smile. Not a real one. He knew it wasn't, he never had a real smile on his face. In her hand was a cup of hot chocolate.

Cautiously, he wrapped his fingers around the Styrofoam cup, the heat making his cold fingers burn painfully. He sipped it, not caring that it burnt his tongue and throat because it was helping him to warm up again. His eyes met the girl's again; she did not seem like she was much older than he was. But why would she give him the drink? What did she want from him?

Her father said something in a foreign language and the girl looked over her shoulder at him. "Why don't you come with us? Get you into some dry clothes, maybe some food? Would you like that?"

Would he like that? Of course he would like that, though there were several rules he had come up with for himself. One of them being: never go with a stranger anywhere, even if that stranger was a girl no older than him. So he simply shrugged his shoulders, still staying quiet.

She frowned, almost pouted, then glanced back at the other person whose face he still couldn't see. The man said something and the girl nodded looking back at boy. "We can get you out of here, give you a roof over your head, make it so you're never on the streets alone again. You'd be safe. You'd be warm. You'd…" Her voice trailed off.

 _Have people who actually cared,_ he thought and looked at her, then back down at his cup. It was what street kids, no, the orphans at the homes dreamed off. A place where they could be warm, safe, and a place that would not kick them out if they had to leave. It would be perfect. It'd be home. Finally he nodded.

The girl held out her hand, and he took it, getting to his feet a bit shakily. The man held an umbrella over the children. The girl took off her jacket, putting it around the boy's shoulders. "Come on let's get you some place warm," she said in a soft voice as her and other man led him to the car.

Once in and buckled in he kept his eyes on his cup of hot chocolate, sipping it occasionally. He could feel the girl's eyes on him. God he must look a mess. Thankfully it was not a long drive before he was out of the car and being led into what he knew to be one of the more expensive hotels in the city. Family here on business? It would make some sense. Gotham wasn't exactly a popular vacation spot.

He kept his eyes down, not daring to look anyone in the face. The girl was speaking but he wasn't paying attention to her. Only when he was in the hotel room did he dare to look at the two people. She was definitely the older man's daughter; she looked like him. Had his eyes.

The girl glanced to her father then over to the dresser, rummaging through clothes. She pulled out what had to be some of her own clothing and held it out. "You can go shower, get warmed and cleaned up, then we can talk, okay?"

Again, the young boy nodded and looked around for a moment before going into the bathroom. It was odd, he thought, that he'd be given girl's clothing, but he was not about to complain. When given a gift you do not complain. Another thing he had learned on the streets. Besides…she was bigger than him. Her clothes should fit, at least until he could get his hands on different ones.

He turned the shower on as hot as it would go, letting the room fill with steam as he stripped out of his wet clothing, setting them in a neat pile off to the side. Then, he set his empty cup into the trashcan before eying the shower. His fingers were so white, and shaking as he held them under the hot water. It hurt, it burned, but it also felt good. It could get rid of the chill in his bones.

It did just that. For a good ten minutes he just stood under the water letting it wash away the dirt, the grime, the cold. Then he washed himself, scrubbing his matted hair, his body, determined to get rid of any trace of the street on his skin. His skin was red by the time he got out of the shower. He toweled himself dry, only then slipping into the clothes provided for him by the girl.

Finally, for the first time in two years the boy looked at himself in the mirror, using his fingers to try and comb out his messy dark hair. He was very thin, skin hanging off his bones, eyes hallowed. Starvation would do that to a person. He had lost a few friends to it while on the streets. He was very pale, though his eyes were still bright, had a spark to them.

The door to the bathroom opened slightly and the girl peaked in. She gave him a smile and took him by the wrist, dragging him back into the room. She let him sit on the couch in the hotel room, taking a seat beside him, legs tucked up underneath her. "My father went to get food," she said watching the boy look around the room. "My name is Talia. What's your name?"

The boy bit his lower lip. "John…" he said after a moment then looked at her, water from his damp hair dripping down his face. "But…my mom named me Robin. John just…seemed better on the streets."

After that, they talked, or well Talia talked and John listened. She told him about herself, her life, what her father did, where they were taking him. She told him how he'd be strong, fast, and that no one could hurt him after he started to train. She weaved stories of the League of Shadows, of her father and mother, of her protector. John just smiled and listened, letting the pictures take shape in his mind. A family who cared.

By the time her father came back to the room the two children were sprawled on the floor, Talia having decided to show John just what he'd be able to do. She had pinned him in three seconds flat. John managed to get her off the first time, even pin her down, but that only lasted until her father opened the door, then John was flat on his back again. They were laughing and John was…he was actually smiling happily for the first time in years.

Though with a look from her father, the two kids stopped and got off the floor. John ate hungrily, devouring his food. The last time he had had that good of a meal was when there was a bad storm and he sought shelter in a homeless shelter. They treated the kids good there. After dinner, John was asleep in a matter of moments, just awake long enough to hear the father saying they were leaving in the morning.

* * *

 

It was the first time John had ever been on a plane. His hands had gripped his seat while it took off into the air. Talia placed her hand on his and started talking to him, saying that he should breathe and relax. That they'd be fine once the plane got up into the air. She was right. While it took him a bit to get his footing, once the plane was in the air, he and Talia were able to move around.

Under her father's watchful eye, Talia started to show him a few things. Specifically balance and how to break out of a wrist hold. It was her father's private jet and she could do whatever she wanted essentially. Granted while it was just for fun that didn't stop the two children from dragging each other around the cabin trying to get out of the other's grasp.

Though eventually having tired themselves out, or, well, when John got tired, they sat down and watched a Disney movie that he had never seen before. The Lion King. It was about ten minutes into the movie when Talia said that she was Simba and John was Nala. Normally he would have argued, but he was too wrapped up in the movie to really pay attention. The time passed quicker than he realized and soon enough the two of them were strapped back into their seats for the descent to earth.

It was not as bad as the trip up into the air, though the landing did jar him a bit. He followed Talia and her father off of the plane. John glanced up, feeling his heart flutter nervously at the sight of a group of people. He hung back a bit when the man started talking to others, or he tried. Talia seemed dead set on getting him as close to the others as possible.

"Who's the boy?" one of them asked, his eyes fixed on John.

"New recruit, call back to the base, have Bane and Barsad meet me in the entrance," the man said heading towards the car, one hand on John's shoulder, the other on Talia's.

John shot Talia a look and she mouthed at him 'you'll see.' Yes, that certainly helped to comfort him. He rode in the jeep in silence, looking around at the mountains around them. Eventually it stopped and he glanced towards Talia.

"Rest is on foot. Come on John," she chirped, nearly dragging him out of the jeep. At least she did not call him Robin. He dutifully followed her and her father and the rest of the group up towards the large building. He stared. The building was massive, ornate and like nothing John had ever seen before. There were people welcoming the man who John learned was called Ra's, and Talia back. What were they, some kind of royalty or something?

Again, he stood off to the side, watching as the group of people dispersed. One by one they left until there were only five left. Talia, her father, a man with brown hair and, John gulped, a man with a mask. Talia motioned for John to come closer and he did, albeit slowly. Though the second he got close he saw the movement from one of the two strangers. He ducked his head and side stepped behind Talia. The other man grinned.

"Fast. Least that makes it easier," the one who had tried to grab him said.

Ra's glanced towards John and Talia. "You two will be in charge of training the boy, make sure he learns our ways. He should be a fast learner for one so young to have survived on the streets for so long." With that her father left.

John looked from Talia to the other two. "John, that's Barsad," she said pointing to the one who had tried to grab him. "And that's Bane," she said pointing to the man with the mask. "They're going to train you, make sure you don't die." That did not sound very promising, though if he was being honest, John was just happy to be off of the streets.


End file.
